


DC Super Villain Girls

by Mebreb



Category: DC Super Hero Girls (Cartoon 2019)
Genre: F/F, Slice of Life, Teen Angst, Teen Romance, Villain PoV, teen drama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:35:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24743947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mebreb/pseuds/Mebreb
Summary: Between school, relationships, family drama, and performing a concerning multitude of felonies on a casual basis, Livewire, Giganta, Star Sapphire, Poison Ivy, Harley Quinn, and Catwoman struggle to right wrongs while keeping themselves a team.
Relationships: Barbara Gordon/Harleen Quinzel, Jessica Cruz/Carol Ferris, Jessica Cruz/Pamela Isley, Leslie Willis/Doris Zuel, Selina Kyle/Harleen Quinzel
Comments: 13
Kudos: 36





	1. Good Morning for Bad Girls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All the bad little girls wake up to start a brand-new day in the city of Metropolis.

Selina yawned and stretched, belly down. _Like a cat._ She can't help it, it's just something she does when she wakes up.

In her stretch, she pawed at the soft linens beneath her, using the fine, spacious bedding to its fullest with every wind of her arms and every pedaling turn of her legs.

Finally, after almost a full minute, she was up.

She looked at the clock by the side of the bed. 3:30 AM, it read. Her mouth sleepily curled into a Cheshire smile. _"Purrrrr-fect,"_ she cooed.

While she'd already slept in her casual clothes, she looked through the nightstand's drawers for something nicer to add on. Diamond cuffs? Subtle. Gold watch? _Definitely._ The pearls were a bit much, but she decided to go with them anyway – she liked a little flare in her cattitude, and she wouldn't have it on for too long anyway.

She got up to check herself out in the dressing mirror across the room. Her hair was a bit messy, but nothing a sweep from a licked palm couldn't fix.

A five-minute walk brought her down a hallway dim with twilight to an open kitchen area. She turned on the light, revealing a wall of shelves lined with various bottles of alcohol, opposite to a counter with a motion-sensor sink, and adjacent to a chrome steel fridge.

Ignoring the bottles of spirit, Selina opened the fridge door and got right to work making herself breakfast. 'Eggs sound nice,' she thought, 'and an omelet sounds even better.'

Around this time, most people would be going through what the rest of their day was going to be like; Selina, on the other hand, was not most people. She was going through what the next half-hour would be like.

'Let's see: omelet should take maybe ten minutes, coffee another five, maid gets here at about four... that should leave me, what, ten minutes? Once out, maybe I can stay at Pam's again while I wait for school to start. After that...'

She shrugged to no one in particular.

'...who knows? Maybe the owners really don't mind having a weekend's worth of food go missing. They can invite me over, forget about the security system, I bring some friends – we'll have a blast!'

Thirteen minutes later (the omelet took less than she thought), the corners of Selina's mouth curled upwards as she took a sip of thirty-dollar coffee. She put the cup down, licked away her latte-foam whiskers, and purred.

Oh, yes.

Everything was going according to plan.

* * *

The last substitute for an alarm clock Harleen had expected to use was hyena slobber; and yet, that's exactly how she woke up.

A few seconds of flailing and laughing at how it tickled and spitting out drool that wasn't hers, and it was over. Her eyes greeted her with the sight of her eager spotted pet hyenas, mange and all.

"Babieeees!" she cried out, wrapping an arm around each of their hairy brown necks in an exuberant embrace. They squirmed, not so much in retaliation as in enthusiasm if their manic howls were anything to go by.

"How my babies doin' this mawnin'? Hungry?"

They jumped up and down, howling laughter growing even more manic as the amount of drool increased.

"Ahright, ahright..."

She leaned down next to the couch she slept on where she kept a cooler, reach in and taking out half an entire ham, still on the bone. Before the dogs could even snap at the juicy piece of meat, she threw it.

"Go fetch!"

Sure as sugar, they went running after it on top of several yards of solid grey concrete and metal beams raising all the way up to the ceiling of the warehouse. At its center was a lonely little couch, a duffel bag, a rug Harleen pinched from a dumpster, and the cooler.

The sound of her babies echoed through Harleen's palace of nothing, and she smiled.

It was enough. She was happy.

Her phone rang in her pocket. When she picked it out, the time read 6:03 AM. Only one of three people could be calling her this early, and with a quick peak at the caller ID, the worst was confirmed.

Suddenly, she wasn't so happy.

Harleen pressed the answer button and tried to put on the best vocal smile she could muster as she held her phone up to her ear.

"Mistah B! Ha's it goin', big guy? Early ta bed, early ta rise, somethin'-somethin'-bugs-in-yer-eyes, am I right?"

"Quinnzel, I swear to God, this is your last warning!"

_Oy vey._

He continued, "you put off your lease for the last time! I get that you got caught in the flood from last month with your wallet in your pocket, the week after that you were in the same spot as some ugly people, and then there was that... what was it again? Some 'brat-related incident'?"

Harleen gritted her teeth and tried her best not to sound like it. _"Bat-related,"_ she corrected, though he wasn't all that far off.

"Right. And I know we got a special deal so I could forgive you all those times with all the money you already gave me. Lord knows I'm more than happy to take it."

"No questions asked! Right, Mistah B?"

"Yeah, yeah, but this time's different! Either do whatever it is you usually do and pay me cash up front by eight on Thursday, or you and those rabid dogs of yours can kiss your whole setup goodbye! Goodbye!"

The line disconnected and Harleen was left standing there, holding her phone, wondering how she was going to get twenty-thousand dollars in the next three days.

One thing came to mind.

She picked up her phone again and started texting.

* * *

_BA-THUMP._

"GAH!"

Doris jolted upwards in her bed. Her breathing was quick and her blood was coursing through her body at a breakneck pace. She could feel it slowing down little by little, but only just.

Doris held her hand to her chest and felt her heart almost jumping out of her rib cage, bouncing like a drumstick off a snare drum with every beat.

'Geez,' she thought, 'this is the worst one yet...'

While her hand was there, it felt something else on her chest: sweat. Lots of it. When she went to bed, Doris wore a sports bra and gym shorts, all much damper now than they were last night. She'd been sweatier in general recently, but this was new, having only occurred the past few nights.

She couldn't worry about that right now, though; the clock on her wall said it was a few past six already, leaving only so much time to fit breakfast and reps in before school.

She changed out of her clothes and rolled on some deodorant – heavily – before changing into her regular getup. Ignoring the many effigies of the people she loved to hate using dartboards and sports equipment scattered around her bedroom, Doris opened the door adjacent to the main hall and a phone conversation her dad was having reached her ears as she made her way to the kitchen.

Words like "cortisol" and "extradite" were thrown around. Something she didn't understand. Something they wouldn't explain to her. Something they'd pretend wasn't there, even though they only talked about it all the freaking time.

She could make out "steroid," though, and the words "nerve damage" seemed familiar. Probably about the stuff she was sneaking out of their lab. If it was, then...

She pushed it to the back of her mind for now.

Dad must have heard Doris step into the room because as soon as she did, he stopped and turned his head to face her with an almost bewildered expression. He said goodbye to the person on the other line and put the phone back on the hook. His smile was painfully forced.

"H-hey there! Good morning, sweet pea!"

"Mmrph," Doris grunted, walking right past him.

He fumbled with his eyes and his hands, occupying himself while he searched for possible conversation topics.

"So, uh, what are you having for breakfast?"

"Toast," she said dryly.

"Oh, that sounds wonderful! Do you want me to get that for—?"

By then, she'd already picked out two slices of wheat bread and pushed them down into the toaster. At the moment, she was just sitting at the dinner table, back facing her dad, waiting for them to pop up.

"O-oh," Dad said, more to himself than her.

Sounding defeated, he took out a plate from the above cabinet and placed it in front of the toaster, moving the butter plate so that it was closer and putting a knife on the far side of the plate. It was all he could think to do before heading off to his lab again.

When it popped up, she put it on a different plate and took it to her room without any butter.

She huffed through a mouthful of dry crumbs.

"Nerd."

* * *

When she woke up, Carol didn't get out of bed. Not at first. She didn't even want to open her eyes. She could still feel the dried streams of mascara that ran down her cheeks.

Carol hated this feeling. It was so much easier to be hurt and angry than hurt and sad; she just couldn't find it in her to be that way, though. Even though she did have someone to blame, this was just too much...

There was nothing for her to get up for anyways. The world was ending. The sky was falling. Her life was over. Everything had come grinding to a halt, crashing down and utterly decimating everything she had worked so hard towards all these years.

Because, as of yesterday, she'd been blocked – _BLOCKED_ – by Hal Jordan. Love-her-of-her-life Hal Jordan. Romeo-to-her-Juliet Hal Jordan. Looks-so-cute-when-he-runs-away-in-absolute-terror-screaming-bloody-murder Hal Jordan.

The signs were there, she supposed. She texted him every day, adding "hi," to a sea of other messages saying "hi." He would occasionally tease her with a "who is this" or a "please stop," or even an "i am literally going to block you." She just couldn't understand why he was doing it now.

She rolled over in her bed so she could at least be facing her phone. Her eyelids cracked open, letting in a sliver of light...

...and her phone was on.

She had a notification.

Could it be from Hal?

She lunged out from between the sheets to snatch the phone from off her nightstand.

Her heart, she was sure, made a 'plunk' sound from dropping in her own chest when she saw it wasn't from Hal, but instead from one of her female friends.

'Blonde + red/blue dye started a group text.'

Carol sighed. 'Well,' she shrugged, 'might as well open it...'

It was interesting, to say the least – interesting enough to get her out of bed, brushing her teeth, doing make-up in her vanity mirror peppered with photos of Hal (some of which not entirely taken with his knowledge), wolfing down Mommy's famous scrambled eggs and marmalade with fresh-squeezed orange juice, and walking out the door.

She stopped and turned around halfway to her daddy's car.

"Whoops!" She rushed back into her room and slammed the door. This time, she locked it. "Almost forgot one thing..."

It took a second to reach around under her bed, but in less than a minute, she was able to find just the right corner of empty space she was looking for.

"Ah, here it is!"

A flash of pink light flooded the underside of the bed, temporarily blinding Carol. She bumped her head on the way back up because of it, but on the bright side (pun not intended), she did so holding just what she was looking for: a round, spherical lantern, made of unearthly pink metal and glowing an even brighter pink from within.

With one hand, she held it by its circular handle, thin and wiry – perfect for her dainty, girlish fingers; the other hand, she held up balled into a fist so that her ring was facing the glowing window, and its brightness intensified.

She spoke the oath:

_"For hearts long lost and full of fright,_

_For those alone in Blackest Night:_

_Accept our power and join our fight_

_Love conquers all with violet light!"_

The glowing subsided, leaving Carol with her newly charged ring. She shuffled a bit in putting the lantern back – it was tough every time, finding the right pocket dimension to put it in, but it sure beat Mommy or Daddy finding it with just a quick sweep of her room.

She held up her power ring to examine it one last time before heading out.

"Gonna need _this_ for later..."

* * *

Pam usually heard voices when she woke up. She kept plants everywhere, all of whom shared their secrets – secrets of the Earth, of soil, of water and the air, of people and insects and how, deep down, they were all just the same. Those secrets were hers and hers alone to hear, and so she relished them.

This particular morning, however, Pam was surprised to hear a different kind of voice coming from the living room. It was distinctly in English, but the voice itself didn't sound familiar, and there was something about the tone that was just off to Pam. Whatever the reason, she had to investigate.

Pam crept slowly to the other end of the room, making sure not to alert her would-be intruder. Intruders? She thought she heard a second voice. And then, as she turned the knob of her door without a noise, yet another. 'How many are there?' she wondered.

Pam opened the door just a crack, giving her an eyeful of the short hallway to her living room. On the left, a small closet, and on the right, her bathroom, both seemingly undisturbed.

The voices were louder now, but she still couldn't see anybody from around the opposite corner. Louder and louder they got as Pam shuffled down the hallway, hoping to find whatever disgusting, deceitful human beings were being this invasion of privacy, before finally she stepped into the living room to find...

...the TV was on.

Three men were sitting around a table on-screen, talking.

And how did it get turned on? Hanging over the edge of the couch was the leg of a dark-skinned girl who answered her question.

"Good morning, darling," Selina said, not even bothering to turn and face her. It was as if she could just sense her there. "Sleep well?"

Pam shrugged, not really thinking of a viable reply after having just woken up.

"Good enough an answer as any!" There she went again. By now, Pam was used to it.

Even if she wasn't – and there was definitely a time when she wasn't – she liked Selina. Selina never told to eat her greens, or to get out more often, or to talk to more people; she just supported Pam where she could, watching out for her safety and clawing off anyone's face if they dared look at her funny. She was like a second, better mom to her.

It took Pam's stomach gurgling audibly for her to realize she was needed breakfast. There used to be a kitchen area near the entrance, you could still see the outlines of a counter on the wall, but she tore it out to make room for her plants – no, literally, 'tore it out'; with the strength of a circus strongman, vines had reached out on her command, ripped it from the wall and crumpled it to dust. No more kitchen area.

Instead, there was a cooler she kept in the bathroom she got all her tap water from. She had bacon but had no way of heating it up (god knows why she got it in the first place), so she settled for a slice of ham.

Ham and tap water for breakfast. Part of the reason Pam liked to be left alone was that this was a normal thing for her. No plants harmed, none screaming in horror or shedding tears of sap from witnessing their fallen brethren be consumed so greedily... and nobody likes her. Story of her life.

She stepped back out into the living room to see Selina watching some cop show and bit into her meager slice of ham.

Selina held up her phone over the coach's back. "Check your phone, by the way."

Pam swallowed her bite almost as if she'd inhaled it. "Why?"

"Just do it."

Pam rolled her eyes and took her phone out from her pocket to see one notification: "The Weird One started a group text".

'Ugh. What does she want now?'

She checked.

 _'...oh._ So _that's_ what she wants.'

* * *

Leslie ran a groggy hand over her face and groaned. Like most days, she felt like crap, but today she felt even more like crap since she had been up til three in the morning just browsing her laptop; in fact, the only reason she went to sleep at all was because she blacked out. The last thing she could remember doing...

She looked at her nightstand. Her laptop was still plugged in, with the same website still up: "sapph-fire-dot-com."

She slammed it shut without thinking. _'Shit,'_ she thought. 'Hope nobody came in here and saw that.'

One change of clothes later, she was sitting in her bed again, grabbing her phone out from the jungle of wires that made her put a fire hazard sticker on the outside of her bedroom door (not because she needed to, of course; she just thought it looked cool). The phone's clock told her it was a few past seven – school was about to start soon. Not that she cared all that much. Still, her parents would bitch to her about it regardless, so she pulled up her pants and slid herself out of bed with a grunt. She eyed the corner of her room where laid a bright green sheet about the size of a barn door hanging from her wall behind a desk, two lamps, and a tripod stand for her phone, all of it for her LexTube "influencer" channel. She looked at the time, then back at the setup. It killed her to admit it, but the morning report was going to have to wait.

Upon closer inspection of her phone, Leslie was surprised to see 'Spazoid started a group text' in her notifications.

"Oh shit, it's Harley!" Leslie opened it up, sitting on pins and needles for whatever batshit insanity that girl had come up with this time.

'WHOSE REDDY 2 ROB A BANK?' it read.

Leslie needed a pick-me-up this morning, and by god, she got one.

Her fingers danced furiously across her virtual keyboard until not one second later, her response popped up:

'FUCK YEAH LETS STEAL SOM SHIT!'


	2. Come Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The daily commute to school is always a drag – more so for the people who make bad things happen.

Harleen Quinnzel was a horrible driver, hands down; and yet, she was always insistent that she _wasn't._ This was not a favorable combination, as you can imagine.

"Why d'ya think they call me Harley?" she'd joke to others. "Because it's your name," they'd reply, immediately before witnessing a three-car-and-one-motorcycle pile-up, from which Harley herself would walk away with only an unrelated papercut.

This exact scenario had been repeated so many times in the past that it was all Pam could think about as she was getting thrown around the backseat of Harley's car on her way to school.

At the moment, they were driving through a dumpster-filled back alley where they'd almost – no, _definitely_ run over at least one homeless person.

Meanwhile, Selina was clinging desperately to the passenger's seat with her back arched forward.

"Y-you know, Harles," she started, a panic weakening her voice, "you... really could have let me take the wheel after you drove over to Pam's place!" She didn't mean to make 'drove' sound sarcastic — it just sort of happened, really. Not that Harley caught onto it.

"Aw, it's no big dee', Selina! I'm happy ta–!"

_"LOOK OUT!"_

Harley swerved, barely missing a stray cat. Pam rolled to the other side of the car and was almost certain she'd have to hurl soon, even if Harley's driving was too unpredictable to open a window.

"Whew! Boy, that was a close 'un, ain't it?"

'Not really,' Selina could have said, but she knew it would have been in one ear and out the other. Instead, she chose to resign to it... for now.

"So, uh, Harley... about this bank you want to rob: any specifics?"

"Nuttin' til we get the whole gang togethuh!"

"Right." She nodded. "Good plan..."

'...if we live that long,' she thought to add. But she didn't.

Selina tried to take her mind off Harley's driving by putting on the radio. Some Beatles song started playing, but that was all she really knew about it, and all she could hear past the constant screeching and swaying of car parts.

The clock on the dashboard read 7:25, and Selina had an almost sixth sense that they weren't going fast enough (in the right direction) to get to school in ten minutes.

"Uh, Harleen, darling? Maybe I should–"

_"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!"_

The sound of tires screeching and Harley's screaming bloody murder shook the car as Selina closed her eyes and braced for immediate impact.

That's when the car came to a sudden stop.

One second passed.

No air bags, no sound of a crash, no jerk of momentum that she could tell...

Two seconds passed.

...were her hairs standing on end? She could hardly feel anything anymore.

Three seconds passed.

Selina opened an eye to make sure she wasn't dead. She wasn't, thank God — instead, they'd stopped in the middle of yet another dirty alley, a good few feet of space between them and the nearest wall with no other obstacles in sight.

'What the...?'

She heard Harley burst out into laughter; suddenly, things started to make a lot more sense.

"You shoulda seen the look on ya faces! _Priceless!"_

Pam lunged to open the car door fast as she could and lurched forward. Goodbye, slice of ham.

"Aw, cheer up, Spammy, it's just a joke! Right, Selina?" Harley nudged her feline friend, but she didn't respond at all; she was just staring straight ahead, gaze wide, pupils thin, and with just a slight twitch of the eyelid.

"Uhh, Selina? Awe ya in there?"

* * *

It was a few more minutes before Selina and Pam got back into the car, but at least they had everything ready to go. And they finally got the chance to buckle themselves in, which was a plus.

"Alright," Selina called out as she slid into the driver's seat, "everyone okay back there? Pamela?"

Pam held a thumbs-up. "All set."

"Good! Harleen?"

Harley muffled something through the gag in her mouth as she squirmed beneath the layers of rope restraining her beneath Pam's feet. It was unintelligible, but it showed she was still breathing.

_"Gr-r-r-eat!"_

And with that, Selina shifted the car into gear and they were off.

Pam pushed the heel of her unwashed sneaker into Harley's cheek, pressing the other side of her face into the crusty lower back of the driver's seat. The blonde grunted in discomfort, her emissions still muffled by the gag parting her lips, and all the while Pam was looking down on her and chuckling with sadistic glee.

"Aw, don't worry, Harley, it's just a little joke..."

It was smooth sailing from thereon out.

* * *

Doris felt her heart beat in her chest as she jogged down the sidewalk to school, headphones in her ears tuned to a random radio station. Whatever song was on at the moment, she didn't really understand the lyrics, but she liked the sound of ot. The beat was pretty good, too. Like her heart at that moment, it was going hard and fast, but steady — already, her little wake-up incident from this morning was starting to seem like just a bad dream.

Plus, with the cool morning mist in her face and a warm, healthy sweat brewing over her burning calves, there was a sort of Zen feeling to what she was doing, as if she was in her natural state. Left, right, left, right, in, out, in, out...

It was almost a shame when she finally reached the outer steps of the school.

At least it gave her a chance to meet up with friends. She saw Carol sitting at the top of the steps – their usual meeting place during mornings – mopily staring down at her phone.

"Hey, Carol," Doris called out as she reached the top of the marble stairs. "How's tricks?" Carol turned her head and her expression suddenly changed to one of exasperation.

"Oh. My. _God._ You will not believe what happened to me, yesterday..."

Doris groaned and threw her head back for a moment. "Hal again?" The groan was meant for Carol, but she didn't have to know that.

"YES! And, I swear to God, it's all that bitch Jessica's fault! She's the one who's always..."

It was around this point of the conversation Doris always tuned her out. _Jessica._ Just her being associated with Carol made her want to punch that grass-munching hippie right in her face. But then, that wasn't her sphere of influence, it was Carol's. Actually, she was pretty sure she heard about her from Pam, too — made her sound like a real creep. Now, maybe if she started bothering Leslie...

"...thinks she's sooo attractive, and it's something to do with those hips, I swear! Or maybe her height? Is he into Hispanics? Ugh, whatever it is, she always–!"

"Doris! Carol! Good morning!"

Like a guardian angel, Doris saw Selina waving at them from the bottom of the steps with Pam and Harley trailing closely behind.

"Sorry we're a bit late. We were, uh, tied up with a little car trouble."

Harley crossed her arms and pouted off to one side. Why Harley would be upset, of all people, Doris couldn't wrap her head around.

Selina continued, "I take it your commute here was more pleasant?"

"I stepped on a dog on the way over here," Doris said with a smile.

 _"That's_ my girl!" cheered Selina.

Doris looked around to see their sixth member was nowhere in sight. "Uh, where's Leslie?"

Selina shrugged. "Oh, heck if we know. She's always late, isn't she?"

"I mean, not _always..."_

"Whatever the case, she'll be here eventually."

Carol stepped out from beside Doris to meet the others halfway, holding up her phone shakily. "Oh my god, you guys – you will not _fucking_ believe what Hal-y-Wal-y did to me this time!"

Everyone but Doris threw their heads back and groaned. They were in for it now, and they knew it.

Except Harley. Harley just traded in her pout for a devilish smile and leaned in. _"Do tell,"_ she cooed.

"Well, yesterday, he–"

 _"Heyooooo!"_ a voice cried out from around the corner of the staircase.

Doris's face brightened up as its source came into view. "Leslie!"

"What's up, nerds! Slept in, a bit. Hope you guys didn't miss me too much."

"Right!" Selina put her hands together. "Now that we're all together..."

Carol crossed her arms and scoffed. 'Well, fine, if nobody cares about me...'

"...we can discuss details! Harley: what's your plan for tonight?"

"Hm? Oh, I was jus' thinkin' we could rob Metropolis National Bank, like we did before!"

"Yeah, alright," said Doris.

"Fine by me," Carol said, still feeling dejected.

Leslie pumped her fist into the air. "Leh's do it!"

"Yeah, absolutely not," said Selina.

"Wait, what!?"

"First rule of being a criminal: if you're gonna get caught, never pull the same job in the same place twice. People learn their lessons: they double down on security, make safer measure, take less risks – it's like picking at a scab where there's already a band-aid."

"Ew, gross!" squealed Carol.

 _"Deal with it._ This is serious business."

"Since _when?"_ asked Harley.

"Look: the point is, if we're going to hit a bank, it needs to be a different bank, or else we can't just smash our way in there like last time. They probably reinforced the walls by now, especially in a place like Metropolis."

"Oh." Even standing straight up, Harley seemed to deflate. "Well, how we gunna–?"

The bell rang. School was in.

"Shit," hissed Leslie.

Doris huffed and shrugged. "Time to go," she sighed.

Even Carol had already walked up to the front door, with Pam close behind her.

Harley called out to them, "wait! W-we still gotta figya this out, don't we!?"

Selina patted her on the shoulder. "Sorry, Harles, time's up for now. We'll be sure to talk during lunch, though, right?"

But before Harley could reply, Selina had slunk with the others and the growing crowd around them into the grand halls of Metropolis High, leaving Harley all by herself to be pushed around by impatient students trying to get to class.

"B-but I... I gotta get this done... before Thursday..."


	3. Right Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In light of this morning's meeting, the Girls go about their classes bugging the shit out of each other. Except Harley. And where the crap is Selina?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Editing this chapter was a pain, and while I ironed out the technical errors as usual, I still don't know what else to do with it, if there's anything to be done at all. Here's hoping you guys like it better than I did!

Doris and Pam had chemistry first class of the day, and while both of their parents were chemists, their levels of enjoyment of the subject varied greatly. Pam made it clear to the teacher that she preferred to work alone, but when nobody else wanted to partner with Doris, Pam was the last resort. Still, it turned out they made a pretty good team: Pam did all the work, and, in exchange, Doris gifted her protein smoothies – sweet, guilt-free, all-meat-and-animal-byproducts protein smoothies...

One of the downsides of this, unfortunately, was that Doris often complained that there was nothing to do, especially when they were working a lab-based assignment.

Like now, for instance.

"I'm bored," was Doris's first gripe of the week. "You want to talk about something?"

Pam jotted down something about the half-empty flask in front of her, really making Doris wait for some sort of answer. Eventually, she set her pencil down and turned to face her partner through those bulky, plastic goggles Doris hadn't bothered wearing.

"No."

She went back to work.

Doris sighed. Fortunately, she may have been bored, but at least she had the decency to try and keep herself occupied rather than bothering her lab partner.

She took her pencil and put it longways between her index finger and the table, trying to balance it where the pointy end was at the bottom. It stayed like that for a few seconds before the pointy bit snapped off and rolled under the table.

And there goes her decency.

"Hey, Pam."

Pam's head seemed to creak as it turned to meet Doris with widened, bloodshot eyes. She really wasn't having it – not that that seemed to deter Doris at all.

"WHAT?" asked Pam in a hoarse, grating whisper.

"Why do you hang around Carol so much?"

Pam huffed out a sigh and pointed over to a tall, olive-skinned girl wearing a green, woolen cap over a waterfall of coffee-colored hair.

"Wait... is that Jessica? _The_ Jessica?"

Apparently it was, as she'd heard Doris mention her from across the room and brought her eyes to meet them. Pam winced when she saw the girl smile and wave in their direction.

"Unfortunately, yes. Carol hates her, so she reacts to her like a reverse magnet."

"Oh yeah, 'cuz of Hal."

"Yes."

"Y'know, if she's creeping on you, you should really talk to someone,

"It's not... can I please just get back to what I–"

 _"I don't see you girls doing the experiment!"_ called the teacher from the front of the room.

Even from a sideview, Doris could see the look of dread and annoyance on Pam's face.

"We only have about an hour of class to do this, unlessential you wanna stay after class, which I highly doubt."

"Y-yes, Mr. Tyler."

"Especially you, Doris."

"Yup!" She held out a thumbs-up.

The teacher nodded and went back to squinting at his laptop.

Pam waited to make sure the teacher's focus was fully on his work so she could grab her lab partner by the collar and pull her closer; although, given their weight classes, it was more so the other way around.

"STOP. IT." She was whispering in that breathy way where she still had her teeth clenched tight, even though her breath could be smelled a mile away, given her usual diet.

"Oh, come on! I mean, what do you expect me to do right now?"

"What you usually do: _nothing."_

'Nothing?' Doris's brow furrowed and her lip hung slightly open; still, she was quiet, and that was enough for Pam to throw herself off of her and go back to mixing chemical A with chemical B, and then write about it.

But while Pam was being by herself, Doris couldn't help but fixate on what had been said about her.

'...what you usually do: _nothing.'_

Her mouth arched into a frown.

"Nothing? You really think so?"

Maybe Pam was ignoring her, maybe she was just too focused, or maybe the sound just didn't carry. Her question fell on deaf ears.

Any other person and she probably would have groped her collar and turned her around to ask less nicely, but this was someone She knew – someone who knew _her._ She _knew_ her...

Doris stayed silent for the rest of class. And stared at the table. And the floor. And the clock, and the wall, and the broken-off black tip of her pencil.

And did nothing.

* * *

First period algebra was one of the smaller classes on Leslie and Carol's agendas: only six students – Leslie and Carol, two nerdy guys, some girl, a dumb jock with a ginger bowl cut – and the teacher, talking about reciprocals, the zero product property and whathaveyou.

Without plenty of space and with the teacher as relaxed as she was, assigned seats were basically nonexistent, which made it easy for Carol and Leslie to sit next to each other where the teacher could barely hear them whisper above herself and students.

Not that Carol wanted to.

Neither of them really enjoyed the class itself, but Leslie made sure she was the worst about it, always trying to talk through text and almost always getting them both caught.

As soon as class started and the teacher turned away from her students, Carol's phone buzzed in her lap. She decided to ignore it at first, setting it aside where it wouldn't interrupt her. But then she heard it vibrate again. And again. And again. And again. One after the other, it was rapid-paced. Some of the students started throwing her looks. She glared over at Leslie, but Leslie was just staring foward, arms planted innocently (so it seemed) between her thighs, obscuring the phone that was obviously shining light onto the underside of her desk while she typed away. Now even the teacher was beginning to stare.

"Sorry!" Carol said to the room. "Let me just..."

She picked up her phone to turn off the vibration feature, but not before she saw the wall of texts from Leslie in her notifications:

"u relly wanna rob a bank tonigt?"

"Carol?"

"Carol"

"carol"

"c ar0l"

"k-rol"

"carol of eartg"

"this it hte pnik latner core"

"u need ti talk to youre freind"

"she has somthung impratmint to twll u"

"carol pick up"

"cArol"

"DON'T STOP READING THIS IF YOU DO YOU'LL DIE! In 1989, a little girl in Texas City, Nebraska was strangled to death in her apartment..."

She was still getting more, but none she saw before hitting the switch to silent mode.

She held up her phone, now turned off, to the class...

"Got it!"

...and sat it back in her lap. The class seemed to go back to normal after awkwardly shaking off that little incident.

Carol leaned in to whisper to Leslie:

"Stop texting me, my phone battery's low!"

"Aw, whaaat? Give it here, I'll charge it for ya!" She held her hand out and immediately Carol shrank away from it in her seat.

"No way, as if I'd let you hold anything!"

"Oh, come on, you know I wouldn't break it!"

"I don't know what you wouldn't do with it!

Leslie held one hand to her chest and the other in the air beside her. "Swear on my scout's grave, mother's honor!"

Carol scowled as her eyes narrowed in disbelief. Leslie's mock innocence just didn't seem to quit.

"...pinky promise?" Leslie added.

Carol thought for a second how much she actually wanted her phone charged: on one hand, Leslie is unpredictable, and usually that quality isn't in favor of other people, let alone Carol; however, if these calls from her kept up and Hal went back on his decision to block her at any point during the day, or if there was some other way to talk to him through it, she couldn't know right away if her phone was dead.

It was a longshot, enough that even she was willing to admit it, given how everything had played out so far, but it was one she was desperate enough to take.

Carol sighed and dejectedly held out her phone for Leslie to take. She did, using the desk in front of her to obscure the one continuous spark connecting her finger to the recharge port before handing it back hardly a second later. The entire time, her eyes were trained on the teacher, who was still using the chalkboard to answer some of the classmates' basic questions.

Carol looked through her phone to make sure Leslie hadn't fucked it up somehow. Everything seemed to be in ord–

...wait a second.

"What is this?" Carol held her phone up so that the screen faced Leslie as discretely as she could, displaying a mostly empty section of her home screen.

"What's what?"

"What do you mean, 'what's what'? What's this app that just suddenly appeared on my phone after you gave it to me!"

There was a rising annoyance in Carol's voice that Leslie took note of and smiled. She leaned in to look at Carol's phone and squinted, eyes darting around the screen.

"What app?"

"This one! Right here!" She held the phone a little closer, prompting Leslie to back up in order to compensate.

"Carol, unless you tell me what you want to see, I can't–"

_"The one that says 'ButtSmackerDaddyPorn'!"_

She waited for answer from Leslie only to see her holding back laughter. She was about to ask why when she realized how quiet the class had gotten all of a sudden.

Because regardless of how quiet Carol had intended for that to come out, there was no possible sequence of events in which that specific combination of words would not turn the heads of everyone in a given area – specifically Carol's.

She looked at the students, who were all looking at her. Then the teacher, who was giving her the stink eye for drawing attention to herself. Then at Leslie. Then at the students. Then at Leslie again.

Even without the cover of anyone talking over them, Leslie whispered, "it's a dummy app, I just wanted you to say that out loud!"

Enraged, Carol stomped her foot on the ground under her desk.

"YOU ARE SO–!"

"Miss Ferris," the teacher called out.

Carol's head shot towards the teacher, whose expression was far too neutral for what was happening.

"Uh... yes, Mrs. Durgo?"

"Could you and Miss Willis see me after class?"

Leslie shrugged, still smiling.

Carol nodded shakily. "S-sure..."

The teacher clapped her hands together. "Great! Now, as I was saying..."

She took a small stack of papers and walked towards the closest student to hand them out.

"...this next assignment, I'd like everyone to split up into three pairs, solve the questions on the board, and we'll tally up who got the right ones for extra credit. Okay? Okay. Now find a partner once you get your sheet and start right away."

Leslie got hers right after Carol's, and so jumped up from her chair to say, "you and I are definitely partners on this, right?"

But her question had fallen on deaf ears. Carol got up out of her seat and, ignoring Leslie completely, went over to talk to the jock with red hair. She watched in horror as the two sat down together, huddled over the assignment, Carol nonchalantly scooting closer to him and digging her way into his side like a little dog, and then horror turned to jealousy and disdain as Leslie had to saddle herself with Nerd One of Two (not even the only other girl like she would have wanted) and listen to him rattle on about whatever in the lesson while she just couldn't pry her eyes off of that stupid bowl cut and those stupid freckles and that stupid boyish face and that stupid way Carol leaned up against his shoulder even though they'd only known each other not even one minute...

"Alright, for these first two, zero times anything is zero, so that pretty much... hey, uh, are you listening?"

"No."

He had no answer for that.

* * *

Harleen Quinnzel had a luxury most of her friends didn't have: a free period, and it was a free _first_ period, at that. Usually she spent it sitting down or jumping around or texting people on her phone – today of all days, she was pacing. Harley had to come up with something in three more days, or else it was 'good luck finding an apartment that accepts hyenas and hundred-dollar bills!' Needless to say, she was a little dry on ideas.

If they really had reinforced the walls, at least enough to deter Giganta before the supers arrived, she and her friends could try finding a sewer tunnel leading underneath it... if that was even possible, let alone big enough to fit Giganta if they ever needed the muscle, which they might if they needed to carry so much money out of there. She could always go solo and hook a truck up to an ATM, but there was always more strength in numbers, and there was no telling how much those ATMs carried – besides, she wanted it to be something the girls could all do together; she liked having them around. She couldn't imagine having a heist without them anymore.

Now standing motionless in the center of the empty tables just outside the cafeteria, Harleen sighed. She was totally, utterly, undeniably stumped...

...which was second on her mind when her train of thought was derailed by a pair of hands being laid on her shoulders and turning her around like a revolving door; thankfully, who she saw made it worth it.

"Babsy-boo!" she cried out, arms outstretched for a hug.

"Leener-dog!" replied the hooded figure before her with matching tone and enthusiasm.

Babs and Harleen hugged for what seemed like the first time in forever, despite only having been a couple days.

Thank god for guardian angels.

Harleen pushed herself off of her dear friend, though she was still clinging tightly to her shoulders as if they were a lifeline.

"But Babby-bye, I thought ya had class first period!"

Babs shrugged. "We got released early!" Her grin was almost as wide as Harley's.

"I'm glad ya here!"

"Yeah, I noticed you were... actually standing still. Seems pretty serious."

Harleen huffed weakly. "Hoo boy... ya noticed that, huh?"

Eyes still on her friend, Babs took a seat at one of the lunch tables and patted the seat next to her. "Wanna talk about it?"

While the blonde's first instinct was "no, because I'm not gonna let spill that I'm a career criminal failing to plan a bank robbery, OOPS! I just did!" she really thought about it. If only there was some way she could maybe get some advice, some morale support maybe if she just phrased her question in a some way that didn't reveal her true intentions...

She sighed and sat down, back arched downwards as she folded her hands over her knees. "Oh, y'know, I jus'..." Harleen fiddled her thumbs. As if it would help at all. Maybe it did – she liked to fidget sometimes. But right now, she wasn't sure anything so small could help.

"Yeah?" Babs leaned in.

"I... I... don't know if I should even say."

"Aw, come on! It couldn't hurt, could it?"

Yes.

But Harley didn't dare say that.

Babs frowned at her downer friend, seeing that there wasn't much she could do – at least, nothing more than she already knew she could. So she draped her arm around Harleen's back in a hug and smiled as her friend looked up to meet her brightened eyes.

"Well," said Babs, "even so, I'l still be here. If ever you need me."

Harley could at least crack a smile at how hard Babs was trying, even if it wasn't really much.

It broke her heart that she couldn't just tell her what was happening. And it broke her heart even more knowing she couldn't just tell her, "I love you" and mean it. Not yet. Not this soon.

Harley went for the next best thing when she wrapped her own arm around Babs, and squeezed tight.

 _"Friggin'... bank walls gettin' reinforced,"_ she muttered under her breath.

Babs tilted her head. "Uh, what do you mean?"

Harleen backed away from the guy, thinking, 'shit. That wasn't meant to be out loud."

"I, uh..."

"I mean, I don't think banks even get their walls reinforced, at least not after they're already built."

Harley's eyes widened, a tiny spark shining through them. "Wait, really?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, that's not what they did in Gotham, not that Gotham's banks were always the best, but I remember my dad complaining how nobody has the time to redo the whole thing after just one wall gets melted or cut or smashed or whatever."

"Babsy, you're a genius!"

"Oh, heh, well, I mean, I don't know about genius, but... wait, what does that have to do with–?"

Whatever was supposed to come next was cut short by a quick, forceful peck on her cheek from Harleen, catching Babs by surprise.

But before it could even register, Harleen was already running towards the school's front entrance.

"Buh-bye Babsies, see ya later! Love ya!"

A nearly-stunned Babs rubbed her cheek as she watched Harleen disappear around the corner and think, unbeknownst to Babs, 'finally, this is it: this is what I needed!'

Things were finally adding up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some HarBabs for those still waiting for the second chapter of Partners in Crime; speaking of which, looks like I'm gonna be pretty busy, next couple o' days...


	4. Over Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plotlines from the last two chapters continue and come to a mark before lunchtime, when Selina seems to have plans separate from the rest group.

Three minutes and one strongly-worded lecture after the bell had ended first period, Leslie and Carol closed the door behind them as they stepped out of Algebra 1.

It was just a warning: no actual punishment, but it still meant they were that much closer to an actual punishment. Leslie, who stayed standing in front of the door next to Carol, didn't see it that way.

"That went well," Leslie chirped. "I mean, as far as the whole 'lecture on responsibility' thing goes, that wasn't–"

THUMP, went Carol's fist on the Leslie's arm.

"Ow!" Leslie leaned away from her and rubbed the sleeve of her jacket. "Hey, that–!"

THUMP.

"Hey! What the–!?"

THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

"Hey, hey! Stop it!" Leslie sidestepped Carol's next blow and continued rubbing her arm. "Geez... for a pipsqueak in pink, you sure got a mean right hook!"

"I'm on the cheerleading team, idiot! And if I ever get detention, I am _out,_ do you hear me!?"

"Uh, yeah, well, you _didn't,_ so..." Leslie chuckled. "No big deal. _Comprende?"_

"Thanks to you, I am _this_ close–" She pinched her fingers together from Leslie to see. "–to getting kicked off the team, and if you keep up what you just did, my whole career goes up in flames!"

" 'Career'? Aren't you, like, a sophomore? In _high school?"_

"I have scholarships riding on this, dumbass! Not to mention my image, my popularity, my chance at getting back with Ha–!" Carol's lip trembled as the name had trouble coming out, and she hid it behind her hand. Leslie noticed Carol's violet eyes becoming more moist than usual.

Leslie rolled her eyes. 'This girl,' she thought with disdain. "Jesus, if it means you don't slug me in the arm anymore, fine!"

As one final gesture, Carol leaned in to Leslie, standing on her toes, and pointed two fingers at her own eyes, then at Leslie's: 'I'm watching you.' With that, she stormed off, barely one minute left to get to second period, hoping it was all worth it and that the leatherclad girl had learned her lesson.

Leslie took only a few steps away before looking over her shoulder to see Carol didn't want to hit her one last time. When she saw Carol walking away, she held her head low and grumbled as she strolled off to second period.

"Hardass."

* * *

Art, especially Art 1, was a very relaxed class: the art teacher always gave everyone some time to themselves to get their work done while she walked out and did various other tasks like making calls and building a ball out of rubber bands, which usually meant one thing for the students that almost no other class permitted: _talking._

And no one liked talking more than Carol. This would have bothered Pam, who only knew Carol out of everyone in the class, if not for the fact that for whatever reason, Pam never minded it as much as the others would. Maybe it was because that same ranting drove away undesirables, or maybe it was because...

...no, that was pretty much it.

Right now, the pink pixie herself was in the next seat over, going on about something having to do with cheerleading and Leslie jeopardizing it with her antics ('big surprise there,' Pam thought), and then something about Hal, the very mention of whom made Pam roll her eyes. Following their relationship (if it could even be called that) was like watching a soap opera made by people who hate soap operas: the characters are superficial, the conflicts are unsatisfying, and the plot is always highly predictable. It left Pam almost _begging_ for a twist love interest.

"...and it's like she doesn't even care about what I want! Like, I have feelings too, so why can't you just see that and know that you're hurting me like I'm just some stupid character in a stupid game you're playing! Ugh!"

Pam nodded on instinct as she finished the last line of the art she was working on. She blew away the eraser shavings, wiped them away for good measure, and laid back in her chair just to stare at nothing on the tiled ceiling.

"Pammy?" She asked in an accusatory tone. "Were you listening to me just now?"

"Mmhm." Pam nodded again. "Leslie ruining your chances with Hal, video game... something like that."

"Goodie!" Carol cheered. "So, yeah, my day was horrible. How's yours?"

Pam rolled her head across the back of her chair to face Carol. "Ever consider Hal just isn't worth all this trouble you're going through for him?"

Carol gasped melodramatically. "Pammy, how could you say that!? He's the quarterback, I'm head cheerleader – we're just meant to be together!"

"Seems arbitrary to me."

"Look, I know you might see it that way, so I don't expect you to understand, but let me explain it to you: we're–"

"PENCILS DOWN, everyone!" cried an older voice from the teacher's office. "Class time is almost over, and I want to see how everyone did on the assignment."

"Crap!" Carol whispered, covering her head with her hands. "I forgot the assignment! What was it again?"

"Symbolism," answered Pam.

"That's the one with hero-glyphs, right?"

"It's 'heiroglyphs', and no, it isn't. Just draw something that means something else."

"Oh! Right!" Immediately she began her work.

By the time the teacher had walked over to her, Carol had haphazardly drawn a cracked heart shape with closed eyes overflowing with teardrops.

The teacher scanned the image for her usual critiques. "Very... _expressive,_ Carol! A little on-the-nose, but very effective symbolism. Keep up the good work!"

"Thank you! I worked _very_ hard on it!"

Next after Carol was Pam, and after realizing this, the teacher felt a twinge of fear for whatever she was going to see next from this girl. She'd seen blood and gore used creatively in her classroom plenty of times, and she often only rejected it for academic reasons, but Pam's work was something else entirely.

She was pleasantly surprised when she saw it was only a drawing of a football being sliced open like a watermelon, the blade sitting idly in the corner of the sheet.

"Ah, very creative, Pamela! And much more toned down compared to what you usually draw."

"I forgot to add the blood splatters."

"Uh, i-it's fine, really! May I ask what this is meant to symbolize?"

"It's personal."

"Maybe in a more general sense, then?"

Pam looked at her drawing for a good several seconds before looking back at the teacher with a half-decent answer.

"Using the money for sports to fund the arts," said Pam, almost as if she was guessing.

The teacher gave a hearty chuckle. "Oh, if only..." she whimsied.

Pam watched her move down the line of students sitting in a broken circle of desks before her own eyes drifted around and settled on Carol, who was staring wide-eyed at Pam's drawing.

And frowning.

As little as Pam thought of Carol, she couldn't help but slide her arms over the drawing to cover it up, and face straight forward.

They didn't talk for the rest of the period.

* * *

At the beginning and end of each week, Coach Flag would take his class out to the football field to have them run laps. Officially, it was to track their progress before and after the lessons throughout the week, but the students were sure it was just so he didn't have to come up with enough lessons to fill out five days a week.

It was busywork, and like most busywork, three laps to make a mile-long marathon didn't exactly boost morale. Like most classes, what little joy there was could only be found in the little things: the smell of fresh grass, the open air, having a good song stuck in your head – or, if you're Doris Zeul, being faster than everyone and smacking the backs of their heads as you pass by.

"Oof!" Karen cried out in pain as her hands reached up to rub her scalp.

Doris chuckled with sadistic glee as she sped right past. "Gotta keep up, squirt!" she yelled from in front, head still straight forward as if she had nothing to do with it. She had to tone her bullying down while class was in session, but she still had her kicks.

Of course, all of that was just the cherry on top. Every lap day, Doris would zoom through the first lap in no time at all and use her remaining minutes to chat it up with Leslie, one of the few instances of in-class quality time they had together.

On lap number two, she met Leslie as she was halfway done with her first lap, and leveled her pacing so they would match.

"Hey, Lez!" Doris called out. "Which lap you on? Still on your first?" She already knew that, of course. She just liked to brag.

"Yeah," Leslie replied through huffs of shortened breath. Even with all the powers of a human lightning bolt, her body was still flesh and blood (for the most part).

"Cool!"

For a moment, the only sounds around them were the footsteps and hefty breathing of students before Leslie, heart pounding in her chest, said, "so... how... ya been?"

"Been pretty good. You?"

Livewire nodded, knocking a few beads of sweat from her forehead. "Same," she wheezed.

"Great!"

Another moment of relative silence.

"Hey," Doris started, "I was wondering: why do you even run in the first place? I thought you didn't care about your grades in gym."

Leslie shrugged. "Dunno," she lied. She didn't want to seem like a creep to Doris — she cared about that, for some reason.

"Hm." With the conversation at a dead end, Doris looked around, her eyes setting on Coach Flag standing against the wall, talking to some girl she recognized from the cheerleading squad. She was a little too close for comfort. And Coach was only getting closer.

"Ugh, Jesus Christ..."

"Wuh?" Leslie grunted.

"Coach is creeping on some girl again."

"Wait, really!?" Leslie's head perked up with eyes wide as golf balls, like she was excited to hear the news.

It was dirt – of course she was excited. And of course she suddenly wasn't out of breath, it was practically her lifeblood.

Leslie looked over in the coach's direction.

"Holy shit! Wait, that's not Carol, is it?"

"Nah. Definitely some cheerleader, though."

"Hm."

"Somebody should report that already."

Leslie was silent, still staring in the coach's direction.

"Leslie."

"Hm? Yeah?"

"I said somebody should report that."

"What, you mean _I_ should do it?"

"Well, no, maybe not. I mean, you're the one with the vlog, but, like, whatever."

"Honestly, I kinda just wanna see this play out."

"Seriously? It's so gross!

Leslie snickered. "I know, right? Principal's gonna be so pissed when she finds out!"

"Oh! Haha, yeah!"

It was four-and-a-half minutes after the caucus race had started, and Leslie and Doris were nearing the starting line yet again. All they could think was that this was just two more laps from being over (technically one in Doris's case, but she was going to stay behind with Leslie anyways); however, their thoughts were rudely interrupted by somebody pushing them apart coming up from behind.

Doris was annoyed more than anything, but Leslie — the weaker of the two — was nearly thrown to the grass before stumbling to her feet.

"Second lap, going on third!" shouted the boy passing right through them. "Try to keep up, Doris!"

Doris cursed him behind clenched teeth and lagged behind for Leslie to catch back up; the latter was holding her ribs when she got back on track, face twisted in discomfort.

"You okay?" Doris asked, even without noticing her ribs at first glance.

Leslie just mumbled an affirmative and kept running.

"Attaboy, son!" shouted Coach from the stands.

Ah. Now he was watching his own students.

Most students who had PE knew the basic lineup of the Flag family: Rick Flag Senior, a jingoistic old man, gave birth to Rick Flag Junior, who fought in "the war" (as for which one, he never gave a straight answer), became a gym teacher, and had a son he named after himself and his father: "Rick the Third," the others called him. The Third was also captain of the football team for obvious reasons.

"Ugh, I fuckin' hate that guy," Doris nearly growled.

"Nnf," Leslie groaned, "yeah, me too." Her pace was more of a jog by now.

"You sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine!"

More lies. But Doris let it go for now. Leslie knew herself best, of course -- why wouldn't she?

Doris looked straight ahead and her concern melted into rage. "Too bad he's Coach's baby boy, otherwise he'd be toast right about now."

"Yeah..."

...as Leslie held her ribs, though, the extra blood rushing through her body must have made its way to her head. She smiled uncontrollably as gears began to turn.

"Actually," she wheezed, "I think got the next best thing!"

* * *

Rick the Third was having a nice day: woke up early and rested, had a good, hardy breakfast of oranges and Dad's V8, left his rival Doris in the dust for once, and all was right in the world.

Things continued to go well until about halfway through PE — he was making good time on his laps, Dad had been very encouraging...

He was already on his third lap when he saw something out of the corner of his eyes: some chick he barely recognized, with streaks of blue dye in her hair, the rest of which was very obviously dyed black. She zoomed over to his side, but not like she was running — at least, not at first — more like she was thrown and ran from there to keep up with him.

It seemed weird, in hindsight: she was veering closer to him with her arms out at her sides like a chicken. She nodded in his direction for some reason, but while he tried turning his neck to see who else was there, he felt the sudden pain of two elbows jabbing into his ribs from both sides.

'Ouch,' was all he could think.

Air was knocked out of him, his torso was on fire, and all he could do was hold his sides in his arms and keel over.

He heard a clap, like from a high-five. Whoever it was, they were chuckling — a sound that followed them and faded into the distance.

"Ow..." he squeaked. _Squeaked._ He was hurt that badly.

He couldn't call out for help in his state, and the other students seemed to just run right around him like a hurdle. But his dad... he had to have seen that. He's Coach, for Christsake.

"Junior! Quit sleepin' on the job!"

This day sucked.

* * *

It was finally time for third period lunch and, as always, a table between the center of the room and its back corner was reserved for the Girls — that is, not so much 'reserved' as it was 'sit here and you're gonna start something and it ain't gonna be pretty'.

Doris and Leslie came in together smelling like sweat and crabgrass, even in spite of the locker room showers. For whatever reason, Selina didn't, despite having gym the same period as them.

Pam walked in sulking as always while Carol came in next to her, being uncharacteristically quiet despite normally talking Pam's ear off. The few that noticed decided to count this as a blessing.

Normally, Harley would burst in, hopping around or running or jumping or whatever she felt like doing at the time; and yet, the first any of the girls noticed her that period was when she slammed her tray on the shared lunch table.

All eyes at that table were on her, even some that heard the noise from different tables — their focus was quickly diverted when they saw who it was.

"The gig's on tonight," she asserted as she sat down and awaited a reaction from the others.

Mostly, they were just staring at her with looks of momentary confusion.

"What, the one from this morning?" asked Livewire.

"Abso-tootly! Turns out, banks don't reinforce their walls! 'Least the one in Gotham doesn't."

"Well, that is true," said Selina, "but that's _Gotham._ That whole city makes crime look easy."

Doris held up her hand. "Uh, guys? Didn't want to say it before 'cuz of Selina, but, like, I can probably smash through it either way, it's really no big deal."

"See!?" Harley gestured to Doris. "She can handle it! Doesn't even need to go through the walls, she can jump from the building over and bust through the ceiling! Ain't that right, big guy?"

Doris nodded. "Yeah, sure! Plus, with my weight pushing downwards, it'll be even easier. Probably quicker, too."

"It's not just about the walls," Selina argued. "First rule of being a criminal: be prepared."

"That's Boy Scouts, though..."

"Same difference! What if we go there and some goody-goody like Superman shows up and wrecks the whole thing? Or a team like the Super Hero Girls?"

"Aw, we can take 'em! I managed to pick 'em off one-by-one that first time, didn't I?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"And Leslie did exactly that too, didn't she?"

Leslie pumped her fist in Harley's direction. "Heck yeah, I did!"

"Okay, sure, but that—"

"And Doris did 'em in like a tank through a brick wall!"

"Heh, well, yeah." Doris scratched the back of her head. "Sorta..."

"And Carol: you could fight 'em off wit' one hand tied behind ya back — literally!"

Carol groaned. "Mmyeah, I guess..."

"I mean, Selina, you literally took Supergirl in a one-on-one, didn'cha?"

"Once! And it was in a very specific setting, not even a bank!"

"Ooh! And Pam! You, uh... you... did that... thing... once. Right?"

Pam scowled at her with narrow eyes.

Harley digressed: "point is, it wouldn't be the first time we took 'em down, and it sure ain't gonna be the last! Right, girls?"

"Wooh!" Leslie pumped her fist in the air again, and Doris followed suit. "Wooh!"

"Sure," Carol shrugged.

Pam grumbled something neither scornful nor supportive, which was about as supportive as she got.

Selina massaged the bridge of her nose. "Can we at least schedule it for another time? A few days, maybe?"

"Why, ya got somethin' goin' on?"

Carol propped herself up in her seat. "Ooh! Is it a date?"

"What?" Pam said, having not paid attention. "A date?" She thought they meant the fruit, but they didn't know that.

"W-well, I, uh..."

Like a true supervillain, Leslie leaned forward with narrow eyes, intertwining her fingers beneath her chin. "Oooh, she does, doesn't she?"

"Aw shucks," said Harley, "why didn'cha tell me earlier? I woulda made some sorta excuse for ya!"

Selina was about to deny it, but then she thought...

Selina tapped her chin with a claw-like nail and her eyes drifted off to the side. Her thoughts drifted back to PE.

"As a matter of fact..."

* * *

Less than an hour ago, Rick the Third lay injured on the football field where students passed by without thought, and his dad was as helpful as ever.

"Junior! Quit sleepin' on the job!"

This day sucked...

...for the moment.

"Need some help?" a stranger said to him.

He looked up and saw a delicate hand reaching out to him. Wrapping his arm around his sides as best he could, he held the other out and grabbed the stranger by the hand, pulling himself up with his legs acting as extra support.

The stranger was a girl: copper skin, full, dark lips that looked soft and well-cared-for, forehead covered by short black hair with a streak of purple dye running through, and slit-like eyes sharp enough to cut steel. Everything about her was striking in all the right ways.

"Th-thank you, I—" A sharp pain in his ribs made him gasp between clenched teeth. "Ow! Oh, oh man..."

"Should I take you to the nurse?"

"Not... really sure..."

The girl put her other hand on the man's rib. "AGH!"

"Are you sure _now?"_

He nodded, holding back a groan. "Ye-eah," his voice broke. "I... I think so."

She pulled his arm around her shoulders like a needle over fabric and began slowly trudging sideways through the football field.

"Sorry about them. Those girls, I mean."

"Oh?"

"They're—" She caught herself about to say 'not usually like this.' What bothered her wasn't the lie itself so much as how obvious it was.

" 'They're'...?"

"—that is, they can be a bit of a handful, especially when they're together."

"Yeah, I think I'm starting to see that now."

"Hey!" shouted Coach. He jogged up to them as they crossed the side of the track closest to the building. "You two didn't finish your laps, did you?"

"Dad, I just need—"

"He's just been hit in the ribs, he needs a nurse."

Selina kept walking Rick along, leaving Coach to lag behind and watch them both walking away so steadfast. He caught up with them almost a second after.

"Wait, he's injured?"

"Yup," Selina answered.

Coach looked back at his class. "Uh..." A glance at his stopwatch told him it was only 5 minutes after they'd started, the first ones to finish should be waiting on him any minute. "Alright, you're dismissed. But get back as soon as you can, I still need your time for the day!"

And just like that, he was gone.

The wall of cool air hitting them as they walked into the hallway was a relief to both of them, especially with Rick in pain and Selina dragging him out of the hot sun.

"Think you can walk on your own?" she asked.

"N-not very far, I don't think."

"Well, that's progress, at least."

"Barely. I still need to get out there and finish up..."

"In due time. Besides, I don't know about you, but I'm not exactly eager to run a whole mile all over again."

"Builds character, at least."

"I'm guessing that's something your dad, the coach, would say?"

"Eh. He's tough, but fair."

"That sure sounds like him."

"What, you know him?"

"I should hope so; he teaches our class, after all."

"Oh! Right."

For a minute or two, there was just silence.

"I'm Rick, by the way."

"I know. It's nice to meet you. I'm Selina."

"It's nice to meet you too, Selina!"

"Even under the circumstances?"

"Tch, yeah..."

When they finally arrived, she laid him down in one of the nurse's cots. She and Rick exchanged numbers, out of interest of friendship.

And that was when she left.

* * *

"...I do have a date."

"Sweet!" said Doris.

Leslie grinned maniacally. "Ooh, this has gotta be juicy!"

"Oh wow! Who's the lucky germ?" Harley asked.

" _Rick Flag the Third,_ " Selina announced with pride.

But Leslie and Doris had other plans.

"WHAT!?"

"Selina! What the fuck!"

"Why would you—!?"

"But he's just such—!"

"—even consider...!?"

"—a fucking scumbag!"

Selina wasn't surprised.

"He's not that bad," she huffed.

"Uh, yeah, he is!"

"He is literal goddamn Satanspawn!"

"What, just because he's related to Coach Flag?"

"YES!" they both replied.

Selina rolled her eyes. "Oh, come now, you both are acting like children. Carol, back me up, won't you?"

But Carol was too busy picking at her food, mumbling, "captain of the... can't even... a quarterback... so unfair..."

"Right. Nevermind, then." She went back to facing Doris and Leslie. "In any case, I don't need your approval to date him. I can draw my own conclusions about people, thank you very much."

Harley put her hands on Selina's shoulders, making them face each other closely. "Selina. Selene. Sel-a-rina Ballerina. Listen."

"Harleen, darling, I've been listening this entire time."

"You go ta him... you tell 'im how you really feel..." She sniffled. She was really starting to tear up. "You do ya best ta make it work, you nevah let go o' that beautiful man..."

"Harleen. It's just a date."

"I know, I jes'..." She sniffed again. "I wanna see you be happy, an' if this is how you wanna do it, you do it, awright? Promise me..."

She took the sleeve Selina's jacket and blew her nose into it.

Selina shook some of the moisture off. " _Nice._ "

"...promise me you'll be happy, Selini-weeny. Please promise me!"

God, even Carol was wiping tears from her eyes; then again, Carol was... well, _Carol._

"Uh, sure, I promise."

"Yaaay!"

Harleen wrapped her arms firmly around Selina's torso, resting her head on the girl's shoulder. "My little kitty-cat's leavin' the cuckoo's nest..." She nuzzled her neck, getting more snot on the girl's black collar before Selina pushed her off.

"Alright, alright, that's enough! Geez, where's the napkins?"

Harley held out a handful of brown paper napkins, having taken them apparently out of nowhere.

Selina just stared at her.

"YOU COULDN'T HAVE USED THESE YOURSELF!?"

Harley shrugged. "It was convenient!"

Selina rolled her eyes and began toweling herself down with the napkins. "Honestly, you're worse than Leslie, sometimes..."

"Hey!" cried Leslie.

"Oh, I didn't mean it like that, Leslie. You're still pretty awful."

"Thank y— hey, wait a second!"

"Anywho," said Harley. "Guess this means we gotta re-skedgy-ull the heist, then, don't it?"

" 'Reschedule'," corrected Selina, "and yes, sadly. How's next week sound?"

"Now, wait just a cotton-pickin' minute — I still gotta get this done by Thursday, else I can kiss my place _adiós!_ It's gotta be tomorrow, I can't risk doin' it last minute!"

"Why not?" Pam asked. "That's how everyone I know does their homework."

Leslie looked around. "Wait, you guys do homework?"

"Tomorrow?" Selina tugged at her collar. "B-but... my date is..."

"Isn't that tonight? If not, we could just do the job as planned."

"Er, well... I..." Selina sighed. "I don't see why not."

Harleen put her hands together. "Then it's settled: tomorrow, we ride! Who's with me?"

"Yeah!" they cheered. Even Selina quietly joined in, but her eyes, heart, and mind were elsewhere...

* * *

Selina walked out of the lunchroom earlier, ducking into the ladies' restroom. It was empty for the moment, thank God.

Digging into her pocket, she pulled out a fistful of shredded paper and dropped them onto the counter below the faucets. With one hand, she was trying to piece them tigether, and with the other, she pulled out her phone to dial what was on it.

It rang once. No answer.

It rang twice. Selina scratched her chin in the mirror.

This was taking too long. Or maybe it was just her nerves.

The third ring was interrupted by the click of a receiever, and all too late, Selina could hear a masculine voice on the other side of the line.

"Y'ello?"

"Hey! Rick! I was wondering about you and me having a date tonight."

"Selina? Wow, that was fast."

"Just feel like I could use the company! Now, how do you feel about sushi?"

"Uh... sure! Wabasi's on 44th street?"

"Exquisite! 7 tonight?"

"Well, I don't know about 7, but..."

"9, then?"

"Well..."

Selina hunched forward. In her mind, she was pleading for him to say yes already.

"...sure, I can do 9."

"Great! You're buying!"

"Well, I don't—"

Selina hung up.

Everything _wasn't_ going according to plan.

But it would.

After tonight, it would.

She put the paper back into her pocket, no longer going to throw it away like she thought she would; instead, she had another call to make.

And then her phone was going in the trash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you'll believe it, this is the longest chapter of anything I've yet published, probably just because there's so much more that goes on in this chapter than there is in the others. I just hope it's not because I padded it out too much...


End file.
